


Falling for You

by missred



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Injury, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Summer of Like, Warped Tour 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: Pete's made some questionable decisions, but Mikey's not one of them.





	Falling for You

The bus smells like Fritos. Or feet. It’s a fine line and Pete can’t suss out the difference right now. His head is pounding and the only thing he can smell anymore is the Frito/feet bus smell where he’s been banished to all day. There had been a really dramatic intervention last night. Andy and Joe had pinned him down and dragged him, literally kicking and screaming to the E.R. It was just cold or flu or something probably, and Pete hates waiting rooms more than pretty much anywhere. He had been complaining a lot for the last day or two, but he was _allowed_ . His whole body hurt, all the time. He’d actually been sleeping, almost nonstop since this thing hit, but he woke up in the middle of the night choking cause he couldn’t breathe through his nose, and his throat clogged up. It sucked. And it felt way too close to a panic attack for Pete to just grin and bear it. So yeah, he whined a little bit. But apparently it was too much, because he’d spent three hours in an E.R waiting room shivering into Andy’s shoulder just for a doc to look at him for 30 seconds and tell him he had the flu. Now he’s banned to the bus, because one bad flu can wreck warped if it spreads, and whatever Pete’s got is _bad_. He’s not even allowed on for soundcheck, he just shows up for their set, plays, and gets shuttled back to the bus.

Patrick’s sleeping on My Chem’s bus just so he doesn’t have to risk losing his voice to Pete’s death flu. It’s pretty lonely. No one’s allowed to visit, and Joe and Andy are crashing in the front part of the bus, so Pete is stuck alone in the bunks. He hasn’t seen Mikey since Wednesday, when he started feeling shitty. They’ve been texting, and Mikey told him Patrick had done drums for them the other night, which is cool. Pete wishes he could have seen it. He rolls over and groans. His muscles burn like he ran ten miles and his head still hurts. He grabs the ibuprofen bottle off the floor and dumps three into his hand, tosses them back. His phone buzzes with a text from Patrick. They go on at 5:20 today. That’s not bad, it’s still gonna be hot, but not as bad as earlier in the day. He’s got an hour to kill before the set, and if he leaves now he can sneak out and see Mikey beforehand. He ambles out of the bus and sends off a text.

“Out of quarantine where u at?”

“Behind Bishop, see u in 5?”

“:)”

Mikey beams when Pete makes his way backstage area, but Gerard grabs him by the shirt collar before he can kiss Pete, saying “I don’t want you getting what he’s got.”

“No fair.” Pete complains, at the same time as Mikey shudders, “fair enough.”

“You look shitty. How are you feeling?” He asks, hugging Pete quickly.

“Okay.” Pete rasps, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shitty, I guess. You’re my first human contact in a week.”

“Good.” Mikey looks a little smug. “I was worried you’d start snuggling up to Joe in my absence.”

“Never.” Pete promises, and crosses his heart for good effect.

“He’s nowhere near pointy enough for my cuddle tastes.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and elbows him gently with said pointy appendage.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

“I do.” He grins, and then coughs, and Gerard whisks Mikey away, eyeing Pete like he’s contagious. Which technically he is, but still. It’s rude.

“Wentz, you know I love and respect you and the weird mind meld you’ve got with my brother, but get out of here before you give us all the plague.”

Pete can’t really complain. He did get to see Mikey, however briefly, and if he heads over to the stage now he can bother the guys during soundcheck.

The sun is still up when they go on, and the mass of people in the audience look sweaty, tired, but excited--hey that’s cool. A lot of the ones at the front even know the words, and yell them back. They haven’t even hit Chicago yet, it’s pretty sweet. Pete’s feeling good, probably because the ibuprofen has kicked in, but he’s not complaining. He wants to ride the wave of not-feeling-shitty. And the  crowd is hype. It makes him want to do something a little extra. He takes a quick look to make sure there’s no security backstage near enough to stop him, and heads for the stage rigging. He climbs a good 10 feet before he sees security circling below him. He starts to climb down but his head starts to swim and---

The air smells stale and Pete’s eyelids are weighted with pennies. He breathes in, breathes out. Tries to focus on the static in his ears.

“..can’t believe him..”

“He does this all the time though he’s never…”

“..sick and it was hot…”

His chest is heavy.

* * *

The air smells cold and strange when he wakes up. He’s not on stage, not anywhere near a venue, and that weird smell is antiseptic probably, because he’s in a hospital room. Mikey is sprawled out in a shitty folding chair and he looks like hell. His arms are crossed tight, and his eyes red rimmed. Andy’s with him, and Gerard is sitting on the vent by the window, not looking towards Pete.

He coughs, and Mikey looks up, tripping over his feet he hugs Pete, which yes, good, but also _ouch,_ Pete gasps, unable to breathe through a stabbing pain in his chest. Mikey recoils instantly, stepping away like it was his fault. “

“Fuck, I forgot, your ribs--”

“Broken.” Andy cuts in grimly. He’d gone to get a nurse, who does some vital checks and let’s Pete know that he’s got three cracked ribs and a mild concussion. Oh, and the flu, like that was news.

“Well, shit.” Pete sighs, and it hurts. And apparently there’s nothing to be done for any of it. Luckily he’s already had the flu for a while, so it should only take a few more days to clear up. He gets a prescription for a serious cough suppressant since the doctor is worried about him fucking up his ribs more coughing, and he gets a stern lecture about avoiding loud sounds and lights while his concussion heals, but that’s it. He’s allowed to go when he’s ready, which is right the fuck now, because Mikey is still looking all messed up and Pete’s hoping he’ll relax once they’re out of the hospital.

Gerard is kind of glaring at him, but he when he slows down to match pace with Pete in the parking lot, he’s mostly frustrated.

“Look, I know it was an accident, but it didn’t need to be. You wanna date my brother, that’s your business, and you know I love you, but--” he pauses, huffs out a shaky breath of air. “Mikey’s been through enough, okay? Don’t be with him if you’re not planning on being here.”

Pete felt like he did in the moments after he fell. For  half a second he wonders if it actually is his ribs making it hard to breathe all of the sudden. But nah, he’s just getting hit with the realization that he’s been a dick.

“It was stupid.” He told Gerard, somber. “I’m not gonna hurt him, alright? I’m here. I’m staying. No more stupid stunts.”

“Good.” Gerard grinned, and Pete realized he had the same crooked sunshine smile as his brother.

He sped up and tapped Andy’s shoulder, giving Mikey the chance to stop and wait for Pete to catch up. He looked better, but still kind of shook up.

The sun was setting and the pavement in the parking lot was warm. Pete didn’t even know what car they were walking to.

He slung an arm about Mikey, hiding the wince it cost him.

“I love you, mikeyway.”

You’ve got a strange way of showing it.” Mikey mumbled, refusing to meet Pete’s eyes.

“Move in with me.”

Mikey stopped.

“What?” His eyes were carefully fixed on the ground, and suddenly this seemed like not such a great idea.

“After tour. After the summer. Patrick’s already got ideas for the next record and you could hang in the studio, we could go on like actual dates, and it’d be like a sleepover all the time, but only if you want--”

Mikey’s lips were pressed sideways against his cheek.

“Okay.”

Okay?!”

Mikey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled.

“Gerard’s gonna kill you, but okay.”

“He can move in too,” Pete teased, sanguine, “I like your brother.”

“He wouldn’t like you, if he lived with us,” Mikey said, and for the first time all day a laugh bubbled out from his chest.

“He can have visiting rights then.” Pete allowed, catching Mikey’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

“Every other weekend, and one unannounced visit per month.”

“I like that.” Mikey said softer.

“I like you.” Pete rejoined.

You could even say I’m...falling for you.” He bit his lip, holding back a laugh at the shocked look on Mikey’s face.

“You’re terrible!” He exclaimed.

Pete shrugged with a smile, “You’re not wrong, Way.”

Mikey leaned on his shoulder gently.

“I never am, Wentz.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill. It's been literal years since it was sent it, so I am super sorry to whoever requested. Hope it was worth the wait!


End file.
